


Hot Apple Cider

by TNKT



Series: TNKT's AUs for Detroit: Become Human [6]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boxboy AU, Child Abandonment, Christmas, Conditioning, Connor & Markus (Detroit: Become Human) Friendship, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Needs a Hug, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Glasses, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Human Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Hurt Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Mental Health Issues, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Poor Connor, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Protective Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Psychological Trauma, Recovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Soft Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Trauma, Traumatized Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Triggers, Whump, aftermath of abuse, all of this happened in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28325526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TNKT/pseuds/TNKT
Summary: Half a year ago, Connor was abandoned at a gas station because his owner wasn't satisfied with him anymore. Markus was the one to find the young man injured and frightened and he decided to take him in.Recovery has been slow and gradual, and both of them have managed to find a steady rythm of life. This is the first big holiday season they're spending together. It's also the first Connor thinks he might enjoy.Inspired by Mimoru'sRK1K Box Boy AU
Relationships: Connor & Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human), can be read as gen or ship - Relationship
Series: TNKT's AUs for Detroit: Become Human [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036425
Comments: 28
Kudos: 80





	1. Coffeeshop

**Author's Note:**

> Hey pumpkin! Please be aware that the Box Boy Universe commonly contains pet whump, human trafficking, modern slavery, and all kinds of abuse.  
> This story focuses on Connor's recovery but there will be multiple allusions to his past, as well as obvious signs of trauma in his behavior. Proceed with caution! And as always, take care of yourself <3

Markus leaned in the doorway with his arms crossed and gazed fondly at the younger man laid out on his belly on the floor, chest propped up on a pillow, elbows planted on either side of it as he studied the open book in front of him with intense focus. He was wearing his glasses. Markus always thought that Connor looked cute in glasses, though he tried to be mindful of the compliments he gave him because the other man didn't really do well with the ones that had to do with his appearance. They made him nervous. It was another consequence of the way he'd been treated in the past. Markus returned his attention to the reason he'd come here in the first place.

"Connor?"

The head of curly brown hair instantly shifted and the book snapped shut even before Connor had finished swinging surprised eyes up to Markus' face, and then he showed a caught expression and scrambled to his feet. Connor was a good head shorter than Markus, but Markus knew from having seen Connor's naked build and his blood tests before that he probably would've been taller if he'd been fed correctly instead of chronically malnourished.

"Sorry," quickly and guiltily said Connor with his head carefully ducked to avoid looking confrontational. "I was going to finish."

It took Markus a moment to understand what Connor was apologizing for until his gaze finally landed on the rectangular basket of laundry on the side, where half of the clothes had already been folded and laid out onto the bed. It was obvious from the two piles of socks, one where they were folded and the other where they were unmatched, that Connor had stopped in the middle of the process to read. Markus knew that Connor really liked orderly tasks like picking out matching socks to neatly put them away by colors or patterns, but he took it as a good sign that Connor had sought out personal enjoyment by picking a book over a chore.

"Hey, it's fine," Markus reassured him. "I didn't come here to check on your progress, you know you can do what you want. How's the book?"

Connor glanced hesitantly at the copy of Ragweed he'd left on the ground and then back at Markus, and he softly said: "It's good."

Simon had been the one to lend him the copy on North's advice that Connor would love it. Markus had made sure to read through it first, half out of curiosity and half out of caution, because he'd made the mistake of not checking the contents of the things he told Connor to distract himself with before. Of course Markus couldn't make sure nothing would ever make Connor uncomfortable because one, he didn't know all of the things that could make Connor uncomfortable, and two, it would've been creepy and stalkerish of him to control everything that came into contact with Connor; but Markus didn't want to be responsible for triggering Connor again, so now he tried to at least ensure that what _he_ gave Connor directly wouldn't cause it. For Ragweed, he'd agreed that a kid's storybook about a cute mouse leaving the country to live it up in the city probably wouldn't be an issue for Connor.

"Great," beamed Markus, thankful for his friends' help and proud of Connor all over again for taking up reading so fast when he'd never been correctly taught to.

It had been only months ago that Markus had had to read him stories out loud- not that Markus had ever felt that this task was a chore, as troubled as Connor often got when he feared that he was being a burden. Markus liked reading Connor stories, as it turned out; and Connor had become more daring when asking for one over time. They still did that even now, but it was obvious reading was a skill Connor was picking up at impressive speed. The guy was smart.

Connor's unsure gaze flickered up to look at Markus, and then he seemed relieved to find no anger on his face and returned a shy smile.

Markus gestured out in the hallway. "I was going to go on an errand at the supermarket, do you want to come with me? Or you can stay here and keep reading if you want."

Connor took a step forward. "No, I'll come with you." Then he stopped and glanced over at the laundry basket, then back at Markus. "I didn't finish..."

Markus waved Connor's concerns away. "It's fine, it doesn't matter. You can do it later."

He wanted to say _'I can do it myself, you know'_. He didn't. Markus had made that mistake more than enough times in the beginning. He hadn't realized back then until he'd talked with Josh about Connor's increasing nervosity that telling someone they weren't needed to do the chores they'd been trained to accomplish for their owner for a good chunk of their life was basically equivalent to telling them that _they_ weren't needed themself. It had been exactly like that time when Connor had thought Markus would use him for sex and Markus had told him no, when he'd told Connor to get his clothes back on and not do this kind of thing again a bit too sternly because of the shock of seeing Connor kneeling naked next to his bed for that reason.

Connor got extremely anxious if Markus said or did anything that implied he wasn't _useful_. It happened for Connor to cry because he got lost and overwhelmed by this dynamic he was still unfamiliar with, when he'd start thinking once more that this meant it was only a matter of time before Markus grew tired of him and gave him up too.

Markus knew that Connor was terrified to be abandoned again and that this was why he went out of his way to do things that would please him. Markus couldn't blame the guy, seeing how he'd found him in some shitty gas station shivering and pressing up against the dirty wall, covered in bruises, burns and scars behind a sign that said _'free pet'_. Connor had been unable to even think to flee and save himself. He hadn't known any better but to let Markus take him home, even though Markus could've been just as dangerous as whoever had made Connor end up in such a state. They both knew that Connor would be helpless if he was abandoned again. Sure, he was getting better; but it had been stamped in his bones, in his very marrow, that he was not allowed to live for himself. That meant Connor didn't know a thing about ensuring his own survival.

Markus didn't know the details of what exactly had happened to Connor. He just knew that unlike the rules companies claimed to follow about asking for consent before signing someone up to become a box boy, humanely training them, and lawfully selling them, there was no damn way in hell that Connor had been legal when he'd become a box boy. It meant that whichever way Connor had ended up in training to become one and then been sold was very illegal and very wrong. Not to mention that Markus had quickly discovered that the person Connor had been sold to was the very same individual who'd left all those marks on his body, and part of the ones that littered his soul.

It got frustrating at times dealing with an adult like Connor who acted so dependent and whose sense of self-worth was so fragile, but Markus had never blamed him for being too clueless, or too slow, or too afraid. It was obvious that Connor's mindset couldn't be held up to the same standards as another twenty-two year old's. He could act and look his age, comfortably hanging around with Markus and his friends, just lounging on the couch watching TV after making himself a bowl of cereal, or sifting through the shelves at the supermarket to find the best prices like any college student would. However, there'd always come a moment when Connor would act like a child afraid to get punished, or when he'd ask Markus about something that should've been common knowledge at his age, or when he'd seek comfort in the most naive and innocent of ways.

Worse, sometimes his eagerness to please translated into saying or doing crude things that somehow always took Markus by surprise, no matter how often North and Josh explained to him why Connor could act so promiscuous and daring at a sexual level. These raw and sometimes outright indecent actions clashed with the younger man's overall mild and innocent demeanor. It was something Markus was trying his best to work on because he hated making Connor feel like he'd done something bad, and Connor always got confused and guilty when _Markus_ felt confused and guilty about having somehow made Connor think that he needed to resort to sex. Thankfully they'd been figuring it out with North, Josh and Simon's help and Connor very rarely acted this way anymore.

"Do I just leave everything like that?" asked Connor, still unsure, his gaze fixed on the messy heap of clothes at the end of his bed.

"Yeah," simply said Markus.

Connor looked at him and said: "...Okay."

"Come on," said Markus as he gestured for Connor to follow. "Let's get some fresh air."

* * *

They walked side by side down the crowded street beneath the colorful lights that bounced off the quickly darkening facades of the shops. Markus grumbled in his scarf that he didn't like that days were so short in winter, but Connor didn't mind. He was amazed by the Christmas decorations strewn about the town's center and couldn't stop twirling on himself as he tried to take in as much of the sight as he could. He could see _everything_.

Connor had thought for a very long time that everyone saw things blurry the way he did. He'd just figured that he was clumsy where others were effortless and that this was the reason why he bumped into things all the time. His handler had mentioned something about his sight, in the beginning, but hadn't brought it up again. When Connor had first been sold to his owner, he'd tripped over the carpet and smacked parts of his body in the furniture. Then when he'd gotten used to the layout of his new home and had adapted his movements accordingly, there was always something that seemed to be out of place that he'd either knock over or hurt himself with. Sometimes it made his owner laugh and call him cute. Sometimes it made his owner yell and call him stupid.

So Connor had always thought that he was just clumsy, all the way up until the moment Markus had said that something seemed wrong with his eyes and had brought him to an _'optometrist'_ to check. There'd been complicated words that Connor hadn't understood or memorized but the gist of it was that his eyes hadn't been working well and that it would've been easier for him if he'd gotten glasses earlier. Markus bought him some right then and there, even though they had to wait several days for the glasses to be made. When Connor had put them on for the first time, he'd been shocked by the complete clarity of his surroundings and it had even scared him a little to be able to see so many things at once. But he'd gotten used to it very fast and now he couldn't imagine going back to his old constantly blurry eyesight.

"It's so pretty," he murmured as he spun on himself yet again. Markus chuckled, and the sound warmed a spot in the center of Connor's chest. He shot the older man a little smile which Markus returned, and then Connor tipped his head back again to gaze at the golden pinpoints of light that shifted and shimmered along the garlands strung above their heads.

On good days like this, Connor believed he could trust that Markus wouldn't disappear and leave him on his own in the middle of the busy street. He did stick close to his owner just in case he got lost, but he didn't grab onto Markus' coat, because it was a habit he was still trying to kick and because he felt confident enough today to resist the urge to hold onto the older man even amidst the bustle of people all around them.

In the beginning, Connor had been afraid of crowds because he hadn't been used to them. Training had involved staying in the same rooms nearly all the time and when Connor had been allowed outside, it was always under supervision and always far from very populated areas. Then he'd gotten an owner, and his owner never wanted him to leave their home either so Connor hadn't seen anyone else in all the time he'd spent in that house except his owner's friends and family.

Connor wasn't certain why the other boxboys in the building hadn't had the same treatment as him and were allowed free time outside on their own to do whatever they wanted, but he'd overheard Josh and Markus saying that it wasn't normal that he'd been taken in and trained the way he had been when he'd been too young, so Connor thought that it probably had something to do with that. It was true that the other boxboys had looked older than him when he'd been allowed in the building and that his trainer had always lied about Connor's age.

Connor didn't think he had an opinion of like or dislike about the time when he'd been trained every day to belong to his handler first, and then to an owner. He'd eaten better there than he remembered having eaten with his parents, and even if punishment there consisted in having food witheld from him, there was at least a reason for his starving. His handler had never hit him, either. There were only two things Connor didn't like thinking about from that time: how it felt to disappoint her, and the sessions where he'd been taught how to be a good sexual partner to his owner. But his handler had always been nice about it when he returned to her dirty and wrong after learning those new things, and she'd congratulate him for being good if he'd been good with the instructor. The praise made everything better. Really, it was disappointing her that was the worst.

He remembered when he'd been handed over to his trainer by his parents. He remembered that the three adults had not sounded relaxed about it, he remembered feeling that something very bad was happening to him. He didn't remember how old he'd been, but he'd been old enough to remember these feelings even now. He didn't know what he'd done wrong that day to cause them to finally take a decision, but he knew that his parents had always wanted to get rid of him. His trainer had told him that no one would ever want Connor except the owner that he would get, and in the end, even that hadn't been true.

"Do you like Christmas?"

Markus' voice jolted Connor out of his musings and he looked at his owner. His _current_ owner, who actually didn't want to be called that, but Connor couldn't stop doing it anyway. Sometimes he felt bad about not being able to do that simple thing. Right now Markus had asked him a question and was gazing at him expectantly, so Connor had to answer. The problem was that he didn't really know what.

Connor's gaze flickered about and eventually he ventured: "I like the lights."

Markus slowed down, and so did Connor. There was a look in his owner's eyes now that was familiar and which Connor didn't really like because it usually appeared when they were going to talk about something that had been wrong in Connor's life, and then he'd feel broken, and then he wouldn't know what to do to fix it.

Markus asked: "What else?"

Connor dropped his gaze to the wet, salt-covered pavement they were walking on and stalled for time with complete silence. He didn't know what the right answer was. He didn't know what Markus wanted to hear him say. Connor knew that it would probably upset or disturb the older man if he explained that he didn't think he'd ever liked Christmas, not with his family, not with his trainer or his instructors, not with his old owner. Lying would be easy. But lying made Connor feel dirty when he did it to Markus.

So Connor didn't say anything at all.

They didn't stop walking. Markus just let out a discreet sigh which made Connor viscerally afraid that he'd disappointed the other man for only a second, between the moment he heard his owner make that sound and the moment he felt a firm, gloved hand ruffle his hair.

"All right," said Markus, and then he dropped his hand back down and continued: "I get it. I was just curious, don't worry about it."

Connor eyed him cautiously but Markus seemed truthful, so he relaxed. It was easier to do so after Markus had patted his head. Markus was always gentle about it and it made him feel sort of important every time it happened. Connor self-consciously curled up his fingers into fists to hide them in his coat sleeves from the bite of winter. Markus had wanted to buy him gloves but Connor didn't like the feeling of fabric encasing his hands, no matter how soft or light.

"Sorry," Connor quietly said, whisps of warm breath puffing in and out of existence.

"No reason to be," Markus warmly replied. "Come on, there's something I want to show you."

Connor looked up at him curiously. "What is it?"

Markus grinned at him. Connor almost expected him to say _'a surprise'_ , like he'd done once before when he'd bought a blanket with North for Connor, but Markus hadn't ever said that again since. Connor knew it was because of him, because of the way he'd reacted badly to it, because Connor's stupid brain had convinced him for a moment that it would be a surprise just like his old owner used to do and he'd panicked out of fear. Markus had managed to calm him down with North's help and they'd both coaxed him out from under the bed upstairs where he'd stuffed himself like an idiot, but they'd all been shaken by Connor's brutal flight reflex, himself included. He hadn't ever tried to flee his owner before.

When Markus' other friends had come over to help that day, Josh had said Connor had probably felt safe enough with Markus to attempt going against him even if it only came in the shape of an escape. Connor didn't see how that made sense but the others had seemed to agree with him and accept that explanation. Fact of the matter was, Markus never made any surprises anymore. Connor was ashamed of himself for preferring it this way, because it probably annoyed his owner to have this limitation, but so far Markus hadn't gone back on his word.

"A coffeeshop," Markus answered.

"Why?"

"Do you know about the drinks people make for Christmas?"

"No," truthfully said Connor. He knew Markus wouldn't make fun of him for it.

"I think there's one you'd like in particular," Markus said with a certainty that made Connor feel a rush of anticipatory excitement. Markus was good at finding things Connor liked. He didn't get it right every time but that didn't stop Connor from feeling happy that Markus even tried, for _him_. He'd been told that it was first and foremost a box boy's job to make their owner happy, and that the other way around was not to be expected and came only second if it did happen. Markus, however, seemed to want to make it the most important thing in the relationship between them. Connor had tried to understand why but it was difficult, so he settled on appreciating it while it lasted.

They made their way to the shop Markus knew best and Connor stepped in first because his owner insisted on holding the door for him. The light was golden and warmth rushed up to Connor's face along with the delicious sweet smell of baked pastries, chocolate and coffee. There was a calm chatter livening up the place where people sat around small round tables with their half-empty cups and crumb-filled plates in front of them.

Markus' taller shape stepped past Connor and his broad hand splayed across his shoulder to pull him along. "Come on."

Connor followed and they took their place in the queue. He couldn't help but stare at the rows upon rows of cookies, muffins, donuts, and brownies, all the different shapes and sizes and colors, the patterned glazes, the interesting names in neat white handwriting against black labels. It took him a bit of time to decipher the letters and make words out of them.

"Do you want one?" suddenly asked Markus next to him.

Connor jolted out of his focus and looked up at the other man. "Can I?"

"Yeah, of course. Do you want to stay here and choose while I order the drinks?"

"You don't mind?"

"Not at all. Don't rush making your choice, we have time." Markus gestured to the people behind the counter. "If one of them asks you what you want and you don't know yet, just say you're still choosing. It's fine if you do it several times. All right?"

"All right," said Connor with a nod.

Markus' eyes crinkled and he gave Connor's shoulder an approving pat. "Good. See you in a second."

It was reassuring to Connor that they were in a relatively small shop where there was only one door, so he'd see if Markus left. It didn't scare him that much to let his owner step away from him when the queue moved on and Connor stayed put in front of the pastries, losing himself in deep contemplation as he tried to determine which one he'd like best. The door jingled behind him twice or thrice and he felt people walk past him or wait in front of the display case like him. Connor was asked once by one of the employees what he wanted to buy but Connor said the thing Markus had told him to say and she left him alone. There was a lot of talking around him and he'd tuned it all out, until he heard words that sent a chill through his spine.

"This box boy's the only guy who seemed to know what he was doing when he was getting me off," said a man somewhere in his back.

A laugh, male as well. "Maybe you've just had shit luck with the rest."

"No, I'm telling you, he's just that good. I think they're supposed to be the best at that kind of stuff, like, they train for it? It's their main thing. Hold up."

A pause. Connor's hands were clammy where they hung loosely next to his thighs and he felt cold, frozen to the spot.

"Yeah, see? They're meant to know how to pleasure you if you purchase their services."

"It says you get the guy for yourself. You just buy one?"

"Yeah. And they stay until you decide to let them go."

"Weird."

"I mean, mine said everything's legal and consensual when I asked him just to make sure."

"Ugh, don't say _'mine'_ like that."

"Why? People say _'my wife'_ , _'my husband'_. I can say it, it's not strange."

Another pause. Connor didn't know why he was feeling so hollow and distant from himself even as he felt like his head had been drenched with acid.

"Was he really that good?"

"Oh, hell yeah. I wasn't sure what I was doing when I bought him but honestly, after last night, I'm definitely keeping him around."

Connor didn't get to listen in on the other man's answer because he suddenly felt fingers touch his shoulder and his entire attention was drawn to the single point of contact between him and another person. Connor startled badly, and without thinking, his hand flew up to smack away the arm that had reached for him. He didn't recognize Markus right away, but when he did, he felt a weight plummet to the bottom of his stomach at the sight of his owner's shocked expression. He'd hit Markus. He'd _hit Markus_.

Connor cringed away and screwed his eyes shut, waiting to be slapped, waiting to be slammed down into the glass that protected the pastries, waiting to be thrown to the ground and pinned down where all he'd be able to see would be dirty soles and his owner's fury. But none of that came.

Instead, Markus softly said: "Hey, Connor. I got your drink."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays pumpkins :D  
> Thanks for reading, please leave a comment if you feel like it! It's good for motivating your author <3


	2. Market

Connor slowly opened his eyes and slowly, carefully shifted his head to look up at Markus. His face was pale. Markus felt his heart squeeze at the sight of the fear swimming at the bottom of Connor's brown eyes and he knew that something had happened here while he hadn't been around. Connor wasn't in good state and whatever had caused it wasn't far. It would probably be better to get out of this place.

"I got you hot cider because you like apple juice," explained Markus, hoping it would distract Connor from whatever was happening in his head. "And I got myself chocolate with whipped cream. I'll let you taste some if you want. We can drink it outside, we don't have to stay here."

Connor didn't say anything. His dark gaze flitted off to somewhere on the side before returning to Markus and his shoulders remained hiked up to his shoulders, guarded, still afraid.

"Okay," said Markus. "It's okay. Come on. Let's just go outside. Can you open the door for me, please?"

Connor moved. His steps were measured, automatic, obedient. He went to open the door and once Markus had stepped through, he let go and stood there waiting. Still quiet. Still tense. Markus stared at him for a short moment and then looked around until he found what he was searching for.

Markus turned back to Connor. "Let's go sit on that bench over there, next to the tree."

Connor looked to see what bench he was pointing to and didn't move, just went back to staring at him. He only started walking when Markus did first. Connor kept a short distance between them as they approached the bench. Markus couldn't help but feel like Connor would have probably liked that distance to be wider but was afraid to let it. He sat down on the bench first and waited for Connor to do the same, which the other man did, after a beat. While balancing the drink carrier and the weight of his hot chocolate in his left hand, Markus slowly extended the cup of hot apple cider and cinnamon towards Connor so as not to spook him again.

"Here, take it. It's for you."

Connor wrapped both of his hands around it with no hesitation but didn't look at the contents when he lowered the cup in his lap. He was very quiet. For the young man to shut down like this wasn't an uncommon occurrence, it happened when he wanted to be ignored and forgotten, especially when he thought he was in trouble. Markus stared at him. Connor kept his gaze down, dark lashes shadowing his brown eyes and preventing Markus from seeing if the fear was still there. He had little reason to doubt that it was.

Markus made his voice as soft as he could. "I'm not going to punish you, Connor."

Connor flinched, pale fingers twitching around the cup. It was discreet and none of the cider spilled but Markus felt a pang of alarm at the other man's reaction, and he had to restrain himself from reaching out to stabilize the cup before Connor burned himself. He didn't want to make him panic even more because of sudden movements.

"I know you didn't mean to do that," Markus pressed on. "I know something happened to make you react that way. Do you want to tell me what's wrong? You don't have to, we can just drink these and continue walking around town."

Connor's shoulders hunched up even more, the young man clearly steeling himself before venturing a wary and worried glance in Markus' direction from behind his glasses. It was quick, there and gone. Direct eye contact was never prolonged between them if Connor was scared of him. He'd only look to check Markus' expression. It wasn't a habit that he'd had from the start; back then, Connor hadn't been willing to make any eye contact at all in these situations. Markus suspected that Connor had rarely been able to correctly read a person's expression during a conflict before getting his glasses, so that meant he'd had to rely on tone and body language essentially. Connor was better at reading Markus now, and it helped him be less afraid when he could see that Markus wasn't angry. Unfortunately, it didn't stop him from being afraid at all. 

It really broke Markus' heart to see that Connor would still consider him a threat at times, and that he never tried to get away from this perceived threat. Connor was forcing himself to stay even if he was frightened because that was what he'd been taught: he wasn't allowed to escape his owner, no matter how dangerous things got. Markus could imagine, even though he wished that his brain didn't supply him with such vivid imagery, the way Connor had gotten the cigarette burns hidden beneath his sleeves. He could imagine him standing still and shaking with his gaze downcast as his old owner took him by the hand to extend his arm and lowered the softly incandescent butt of his cigarette on that pale skin, and Connor wouldn't pull away, even as his hand spasmed in his owner's hold and he made agonized sounds at the back of his throat and the lashes of his tightly shut eyes were wet with tears. Because he wasn't allowed to pull away.

Markus could imagine it all too well. Connor had told him. Connor called that _'being good'_ , like a child in a twenty-two year old's body.

Markus pushed away the disturbing thought and steadily pulled his hot chocolate out of the carrier which he lowered between his feet so that it wouldn't fly away. He looked at Connor again and asked: "What do you think of your cider? Think you'll like it?"

Connor's brown gaze flickered to Markus' face again and then down to the cup in his hands, as if noticing it for the first time. Uncertainty showed plain on his face. 

"...It... It smells good," he eventually spoke. Markus felt relieved to finally hear his friend's smooth, silky tones after what had probably been several minutes of utter silence, as hesitant as his words were.

"There's cinnamon," Markus told him. "Personally, I think cinnamon makes everything smell delicious."

Connor nodded. It wasn't one of his spontaneous, firm nods. It was meek and obedient, it was what he thought Markus wanted from him: safe, blank agreement to avoid conflict. Markus wasn't even sure if Connor genuinely liked the smell of his drink.

"You don't have to try it if you don't want to," said Markus. 

Connor slightly angled his face towards Markus but didn't look at him, eyes carefully averted down to the side.

"Am I allowed?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you are. I got it for you, you know? It's yours. You can do what you want with it."

Another flicker of that brown gaze, this one confused beneath all that wariness. Connor's fingers tightened around the cup and he murmured to it: "It smells good."

It sounded like Connor was trying to communicate something but Markus didn't know what, and he didn't know how to react. So he dumbly said: "...Yes?" He'd hoped Connor would say more, make himself clear. Instead Connor was silent again. Markus shifted on the bench and leaned a little closer. "What are you thinking about?"

Connor flinched again, but before Markus could take it back, he whispered: "Are you going to punish me later?"

"No!" exclaimed Markus, and Connor shot him a look of alarm so he quickly lowered his voice. "No, Connor, I told you I wouldn't. I'm not going to now and I'm not going to later. I'm not- I don't _do_ that, okay? You know that. Don't you know that?"

"Sorry," quietly said Connor. He curled up over his warm drink and repeated in an even smaller voice: "Sorry."

"It's okay," Markus automatically said.

Connor shortly shook his head. "I don't know why I can't-" He cut off, sounding frustrated and scared and all around miserable. Silence stretched out between them as Markus waited for Connor to continue. When Connor finally looked up at Markus, he managed in a steadier voice: "Thank you for the cider, Markus. I'm sorry for this, I know you don't want to hurt me. I'm- I don't know, I guess I still have some way to go before I stop reacting this way. I was having a good time before this came up. Can we just... Can we pretend nothing happened, for now? I'll talk about it when you want me to, but right now..."

Markus didn't know how else to help Connor deal with the part of him that was afraid even though he so clearly wanted to _stop_ being afraid, but to go along with Connor's desire to move on. He hastily said: "No, I mean yeah, I mean- You don't have to, Connor. We don't have to talk about this unless _you_ want to. We absolutely can just go on with our day." He gestured to Connor's cup and lightly said: "I hope you'll like it. My dad made some every Christmas, and he also made eggnog but the cider was my favorite. I don't know if this one's up to par with his, though."

Connor's lips etched a grateful little smile, even though he looked tired from all that fear he'd shown earlier. He lifted his cup and held it to Markus. "Maybe you could tell me."

"Well, if I'm taking a sip of your drink, you should take one from mine too."

"Deal," said Connor. "You start."

"Okay," agreed Markus. "But you'll have to try the cider before trying my chocolate because if you taste the whipped cream first, you'll just find your drink tart." He accepted Connor's cup and lifted the rim to his lips to let the warm, rich, spicy and fruity drink trickle onto his tongue. He swallowed, licked the roof of his mouth where the notes of sweetness lingered and nodded approvingly. "Yeah, maybe not as stellar as Carl's, but definitely great. Here."

When Connor took the cup from his hands this time around, the corners of his lips were curled up and he looked excited to get to try hot cider for the first time. Markus couldn't help but feel fond. This, little moments where Connor discovered new things and enjoyed them, made him feel infinitely glad that he hadn't turned his back on the younger man when he'd found him. It wasn't always easy living with a damaged individual like Connor but these instances of happiness made all their struggles worth it. 

Connor carefully held the cup up to his lips and took a sip, and his eyes widened with delight. He looked up at Markus and said: "It's good!"

Markus smiled. "Told you."

Connor tasted it again and licked his lips. "It's really good. I like this even better than apple juice. Do people really only drink this at Christmas?"

"I don't know if everyone does, but usually coffeeshops bust it out around this time, yeah." Markus watched Connor drink more and said: "We can definitely make some at home if you like it that much, though."

Connor looked at him, amazed. "Really?"

Markus chuckled. "Yeah, really. Maybe I can even make it as good as Carl's, who knows?"

"I'd like that," Connor said a tad shyly. "If that's okay."

"It's more than okay," Markus assured him.

In the end, because Connor was enjoying his drink so much, they decided it was better for Markus to start drinking his hot chocolate now and that Connor would taste the whipped cream that hadn't completely melted into the chocolate when he was done with his cider. Fortunately Connor was done pretty quickly, so he got to eat a decent spoonful of the sweet wobbly cloud that had been slowly sinking in the silky brown drink below it. He really liked whipped cream in general and declared that this one was particularly delicious, and Markus was very glad for it. They stayed sitting on the bench below the decorated Christmas tree for a little while longer as he finished his hot chocolate, and then they got up to throw out their empty cups and drink carrier. They resumed walking down the streets to get to the supermarket where Markus had been planning to buy some last-minute supplies for their Christmas Eve dinner.

Connor started looking nervous again when Markus went and picked up a can of corn. Markus recognized why, because Connor had already explained way back when the reason why he'd looked so dejected when Markus had bought canned foods while shopping with Connor: basically, he'd been fed cheap stuff during his time with his old owner because the latter hadn't really cared about the nutritional value or taste of the things he let his box boy eat. It wasn't that Connor hated canned foods, cereal bars, or leftovers; it was that he was afraid of the context in which he would have to eat them. Oftentimes in the past he'd had to eat alone, sitting on the ground and scooping up the food with his hands, and Connor had said those were the _'peaceful'_ meals. Worse was the knowledge that Connor had been left to his own devices every time his owner would leave on a vacation, and he'd had to stay alone in the house with only dog food to feed on. Markus didn't have any pets so that was an easy potential trigger to avoid, but the rest had been a problem. He'd decided to make it a point in their lifestyle to always eat the same thing together at the table.

Markus found it odd that Connor looked uneasy at the sight of the can of corn right now. He'd thought this issue had been resolved after Connor had seen him cook meals with canned food for the both of them so many times. He asked: "You okay, Connor?"

Connor looked away from the can lying in their basket to face Markus. He answered, still fidgeting: "I think so."

"You think?"

Connor looked troubled. "I don't know."

Markus stared at him. He wanted to pat his head, but Connor's reaction in the coffeeshop was still fresh in his mind and he wasn't sure it would be a good idea to touch him like that just yet. Instead he said: "We're just going to finish this and then we can go back home, okay?"

Connor nodded. A normal nod. "Okay."

They continued perusing the shelves and Markus couldn't help but notice that despite the fact that Connor had enjoyed the cider and the whipped cream and had even smiled earlier, there was definitely something off about him since the coffeeshop. Markus wished he knew what had happened there because maybe then he'd know what to do to make Connor feel better, but he was also aware that if it had to do with Connor's past as it seemed to be the case, there wasn't much he'd be able to do but offer support the way he already had been. Connor was getting quieter again. Markus hoped that it would help if they went home and he was able to rest for a bit.

They went to the check out and as Markus was busy paying for the bag of supplies, he didn't notice that something had caught Connor's eye until he put away his wallet and looked up to call Connor over. Markus saw the brightly colored magazine that had attracted Connor's attention. It wasn't that visible, displayed on one of the bottom rows of the array of paper issues, but Connor was observant and he looked intensely focused on whatever the cover was saying.

Markus approached him. "What are you looking at?" He almost asked Connor if he wanted to buy that too, but then his words dried up at the back of his throat when he realized too late that something was wrong. 

_THE BOX BOY, YOUR IDEAL PARTNER_ , one of the headlines said in neon orange letters. Smaller, still capitalized print precised: _FOOD, HOUSEHOLD CHORES, INTIMACY... YOUR BOX BOY DOES IT BEST_.

Markus apprehensively looked over at his friend, whose expression was unreadable. "Connor?"

Connor slowly turned away from the magazine. His gaze was just as dark as earlier but his voice sounded normal when he asked: "Are you finished?"

"...Yeah," said Markus. "Come on, let's go."

Connor stepped forward without looking back and they left the supermarket's blinding lights for the darker streets. There were still people milling about and the Christmas decoration shone prettily all around them, but in that moment what Markus was noticing most was the cold and how silent Connor was. The younger man didn't look scared like before, he wasn't hunching up his shoulders or keeping that short distance between them; but he was too quiet, he wasn't looking at the decorations or Markus, and his expression was grim. Talking to him only yielded short answers. Markus felt uneasy because he knew this was bad, and he wanted nothing more to get back home before Connor lost himself even deeper in his head. 

They walked out of the more densely populated area of the town center and the car was still five minutes away when Connor suddenly reached out to take Markus by the hand. Even through his gloves, Markus could tell that Connor's shaking fingers were icy and he suddenly worried that the other man would get frostbite. He quickly lifted his arm to make the plastic handles of his grocery bag slide down from his hand to his elbow and then grabbed his friend to wrap both of his gloved hands around Connor's trembling fingers, concerned.

"You're freezing, why didn't you tell me?" asked Markus.

Connor looked down at his trapped fingers and then back at Markus. It didn't look like he cared. His voice was a bit flat when he said: "I'm okay."

"Let's hurry to the car," decided Markus. They could've gone into a store to warm up but he had the feeling that Connor was at his limit for today. 

One of Connor's hands slipped out of Markus' grasp and curled around his wrist, but then he seemed to change his mind and slid his hand past Markus' elbow up to the side of his arm. The younger man moved closer as if Markus was emitting warmth that he wanted to try and absorb, and Connor's fingers trembled where they laid against Markus' sleeve. He must've been a lot colder than Markus had thought. Connor's brown eyes seemed seeking, like he was expecting Markus to do or say something soon. Markus had no idea what. He still felt that it wouldn't be the right choice to pat Connor's head or touch him in any other way that was too familiar right now, and because he was still a bit destabilized from Connor's abnormal behavior, Markus didn't find the right words to speak fast enough.

Connor withdrew and emptily agreed: "Yes, let's hurry to the car."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin!  
> You know, things were terrible enough as they were for Connor, and then someone came up with the idea that he was fed cat food. Blame the DBH whump server I'm in for making it Connor's reality.  
> Thanks for reading, please leave a comment if you feel like it!


	3. Home

Connor couldn't stop thinking about it. The car was warm and there was a low drone in his ears coming from the tires rolling on the asphalt. Markus didn't try to get him to talk even though Connor was so silent. They were both quiet. 

_"I wasn't sure what I was doing when I bought him but honestly, after last night, I'm definitely keeping him around."_

Connor wanted to glance at Markus, but at the same time, he didn't. He kept his gaze glued to the closed glove box in front of him where Markus never put any gloves. Connor knew it only contained packs of tissues and a bunch of papers he didn't really want to read because the words were boring, like _'technicalities'_ and _'infraction'_. 

He thought about how his body had reacted to hearing those men talk about sex with a box boy, how he'd gotten so cold and tingly, how it had felt like leaving his own head. He thought about how he hadn't had sex in a very long time. He thought about what that would have meant if Markus hadn't been Markus.

Markus had pushed Connor away from him, before, when Connor had tried to pleasure him. He'd said he didn't want the sex. But that had been... months ago. In the beginning. Were things still the same? Or were they different? Maybe Markus would change his mind, or maybe he already had, and expected Connor to realize it on his own. He hadn't pushed him away earlier.

_"After last night, I'm definitely keeping him around."_

Markus always said that he wouldn't abandon Connor, but there was no reason for him not to. Connor was not that useful at home. He was not that useful in public. He was better at making food and cleaning the house now that he could see everything correctly but everyone had always told him that his only real, special quality was to be good in bed. Markus and his friends all tried to tell Connor otherwise, but it stayed in his head all the same.

_FOOD, HOUSEHOLD CHORES, INTIMACY... YOUR BOX BOY DOES IT BEST_

There were three important things a box boy was supposed to be good at. Connor knew that a box boy was not good enough to keep if he failed at any of those three things. Connor was not good enough. 

His hands wouldn't stop shaking. He wasn't cold anymore so he didn't understand why. Maybe he was sick? He should probably tell Markus about it. Instead, Connor hid his clasped hands between his thighs and forced himself to breathe softly through his nose. He felt strange and jittery. 

Markus hadn't pushed him away, out there in the street when Connor had pressed up against him and touched his arm. So maybe... Maybe what? Connor slowly blinked to himself. He really felt odd. Somehow, it hadn't felt good to notice that Markus was not pushing him away.

_"It's their main thing."_

Sex was okay. Sex was what he was good at. Connor could do that even if it had been a long time. The process was automatic, he just needed to start it and let his body do the rest. He knew it was all still there in his mind, intact, unused, waiting.

Connor remembered the hot apple cider and his fingers flexed minutely as if holding that warm cup. He was still confused that Markus had given it to him even after Connor had slapped his arm away. It had made a loud sound so it had to have hurt Markus at least a little. Markus had said there would be no punishment for it. Still, Connor felt like he was due for one. He had to make up for such a disrespectful action some time. He didn't think he'd deserved something as good as the apple cider or the whipped cream after displaying that kind of violent, disobedient behavior. Connor felt guilty. The longer he went without giving something up in exchange, the heavier the weight on his chest grew.

_FOOD, HOUSEHOLD CHORES, INTIMACY... YOUR BOX BOY DOES IT BEST_

But Connor didn't do it best. He didn't do it at all.

Markus was nice. He deserved to feel good. Why would the other man deprive himself of the one thing Connor was sure he could offer and do a good job of? Markus had said before that it was because things didn't _'work that way'_ , but Connor didn't fully get it even now. He understood that Markus hadn't wanted Connor then, but it _was_ the way things had worked all of Connor's life. It was what he'd gotten the most praise for. It was probably the reason why his old owner had kept him so long in the first place instead of getting rid of him earlier.

Connor hadn't even seen it coming. He'd thought he was being good. He'd thought his owner would always keep him.

Everything seemed fine with Markus now, but it could happen again. Connor didn't want to be dropped off at a cold, dirty gas station again. That had been scary.

_"After last night, I'm definitely keeping him around."_

What if Markus grew tired? What if he stopped cooking for the both of them and let Connor eat canned food out of the container like before, alone, with dirty hands? Markus had said he could do all the chores himself, the way he used to before Connor had shown up. Markus already knew how to cook, and he cooked better than Connor did. What if he grew bored of Connor's useless presence? Sex was the only thing Connor could think of that he was good at and that Markus couldn't provide for himself.

Connor tried not to remember how sex could hurt and felt a tremble through his whole body when he failed. It had been a very long time. But Markus hadn't pushed him away earlier, and everyone said it, everyone said that Connor was mostly only good for that kind of thing. Box boys were supposed to be good at sex. They trained for it. Connor had been trained for it.

Connor noticed that the car was pulling into the driveway of Markus' house and the sight of the familiar surroundings pulled him out of his thoughts. He felt cold, but it would be okay. He knew how to do this. He would be okay.

The car door opened and Markus started moving away, but then he looked back at Connor and asked: "Are you getting out?"

Connor looked up at his owner. Markus was staring at him with mild concern, like he'd been since the moment he'd asked Connor if he was okay in the rows of shelves of the supermarket. Concern. Connor realized how much he took that for granted in moments like these. His owner was so kind, and Connor never repaid him in the way that he should.

"Yes," answered Connor. He shifted to push open the door and stepped outside. It was night and there was no smell of greenery because the garden seemed to have shrivelled in winter. Markus walked around the car to join him.

"Are you..." started Markus, and then he shook his head lightly and said: "Come on. We'll be better inside."

Connor nodded in agreement. They'd be better inside. His owner liked the table the most- his old owner. Connor wasn't sure about Markus. He just knew that Markus hadn't liked it when Connor had been waiting naked and kneeling next to his bed the first time, that Markus hadn't liked it when Connor had touched himself while sitting in his lap, and that Markus didn't want Connor to think about sex whenever they spent the night in the same bed. There were plenty of other ways. Surely Connor would find the one that pleased Markus, eventually.

Markus opened the front door for him and then walked into the house after Connor, who wordlessly took off his coat to hang it on the rack. He didn't take Markus' anymore because his owner wouldn't let him. Connor waited for Markus to finish discarding the outer layers of his clothes. The older man turned around and saw him just standing there.

"What is it, Connor?"

Something held Connor back, stopped him from doing what he knew he had to do. The blood rushing in his ears was loud and his chest ached even though Connor's breathing was just a little bit short. He shouldn't have been hesitating. He had to do this. It had been too long. 

Markus' gaze dropped to Connor's hands limply hanging at his sides and frowned a bit. "Are you still cold?"

Connor realized his fingers felt numb and there were tremors against his thighs, his fingertips, brushing against the fabric of his pants. He didn't look down to check. His heart felt too big and it felt like asphyxiating, but he had to do this. Old walls finally slid up around that small, hidden part of his mind he could retreat into while everything else happened on the outside. Connor stepped forward.

"I'm okay, Markus."

Markus' green eyes followed him and Connor thought they looked somewhat wary. He distantly wondered if it was because of what had happened at the coffeeshop. Did Markus think he was going to lash out again? Connor needed to show him that he was good.

_Good boy. Yes, just like that. Come on, puppy, lick it up._

"Connor."

Hearing Markus carefully call his name jolted his attention back to the present and he looked up at his owner. They were standing close, now, because Connor had walked up to him. Connor noticed that Markus had taken a step back against the wall. 

Oh, he'd made such a big mistake at the coffeeshop. An owner wasn't supposed to be afraid. Box boys were supposed to be obedient, they didn't attack the way Connor had, they didn't try to hurt their owner. Connor felt a huge, dark wave of self-loathing rise on the horizon. He was such a bad boy. He had to make it up to Markus, Markus who was so nice. Connor didn't know how to please or convince Markus to keep him, but he would do his best for both.

Connor smiled at him, soft and alluring like he'd been taught. "It's all right, Markus."

"What's all right?" 

To Connor's dismay, Markus' expression had grown even more guarded. Why couldn't he get even this simple step of flirting right? No, it wasn't over yet. He could make up for it. He could do what was expected of him and make Markus feel good and show him that he was useful.

_Look at you. You are worth it in the end, aren't you? Keep it up and I'll even let you eat the leftovers from yesterday._

"Let me do this for you," purred Connor, and he gracefully dropped to his knees in front of Markus. Just as he reached for Markus' fly, a wider hand quickly but gently laid over Connor's and the long brown fingers wrapped around his wrist to still his movement.

"Connor, no," quietly said Markus.

Connor looked up. Markus' voice had been soft but his expression was firm. Connor obediently let his hand limply remain in his owner's grasp, wondering if the other man was saying no because he wanted Connor to do something different, half-expecting that grip to become bruising and for his body to be thrown to the ground. He hadn't been burned in a long time. Markus didn't smoke, but maybe he would boil water. Or did he have rope? Connor hadn't been tied up in a while, either. There had to be a punishment coming for hitting his owner. For drinking hot apple cider he hadn't deserved. For being bad.

Markus slowly crouched and suddenly they were at the same eye level. The older man seemed sad now. Connor was confused.

"What were you going to do?" asked Markus in a gentle voice.

"Make you feel good," truthfully answered Connor.

"Okay," quietly said Markus. "And do you remember what I said about doing that without the other person's permission?"

Connor stared at him. It took him a while to find that concept of consent Markus had explained to him, and when he finally latched onto it, Connor realized with a jolt what he'd been doing to his owner. His fingers twitched in Markus' hand.

"Oh, no," he whispered. It always happened, again and again, he never learned, even though Markus explained to him every time the reason why what he'd done wasn't okay. Horror splashed coldly all over his insides. "Oh, Markus, I'm sorry, I'm _so sorry._ "

"It's all right," quickly said Markus.

Connor wanted to pull away and curl up into a ball and hide, but Markus was holding his hand and Connor wasn't allowed to slip it out of his grasp.

"I'm sorry," Connor repeated in a tremulous voice. He was going to get punished, wasn't he? Hand held out for the burning cigarette. Even worse than that fear, right now, was the feeling that he'd done something bad to Markus. "I'm sorry, Markus, I am."

"I know you are. It's okay," Markus told him with calm assurance. He slowly let go of Connor's hand, who let it hang in the space between them for another cautious second before snatching it back to his chest when it was clear Markus was allowing it. No cigarette burns, then. But of course... Markus didn't smoke anyway.

They were both quiet for a bit. Connor's breaths were shaky. He wasn't in the safe spot in his head anymore, he couldn't escape what he was feeling or the terrible realization that he'd tried to force himself on Markus _again_. He'd thought it was necessary. Why had he thought it was necessary? Markus didn't want him like that. And Connor- Connor didn't even... want... did he? Or...

"I'm sorry," Connor choked out in a small voice. He wiped his tears away with the back of his shaking hand. He didn't know why, but he felt scared now. Not even of Markus, or of getting burned, or of getting hit; he just felt scared.

Markus didn't move. He remained right where he was, a solid presence in front of Connor, close and anchoring instead of threatening. He softly asked: "Do you know why you did this?"

Connor felt new tears well up in his eyes and spill down his cheeks. "I... I wanted- to," his voice choked up there and he had to try again, "I wanted to make you happy with me. Because I was bad today. I'm always-" Connor stopped himself there, suddenly hit by the fear that maybe Markus hadn't realized it for himself yet and that if Connor said it out loud, then Markus would agree and decide that it wasn't worth keeping such a troublesome box boy.

But Markus had guessed anyways, judging from the furrow that appeared on his forehead, and Connor felt his heart skip a terrifying beat.

"But I can be good!" Connor blurted out desperately, hand reaching for Markus' and stopping just short of it. Maybe Markus wouldn't want to be touched after what Connor had just done. Connor resorted to wringing his hands together instead and tried not to panic as he pressed on. "I'll be better at preparing the meals, and I'll do laundry more often, and I'll learn anything you want me to learn when you need me to, I can do anything, I'll do-"

Markus raised a hand and Connor immediately fell silent. Just short, shivering breaths pushing past his nose in too rapid bursts. He was falling apart like everything around him.

"You're already good, Connor," Markus steadily told him. "You know that I don't like calling you good because that's too close to the way you were treated in the past, and I'll explain that to you again later if you need to hear it. But I'm saying that you're good, because I don't want you to convince yourself that you're _'bad'_ when you never have been. You..." He trailed off, pressed his lips together. "Just, forget about all that stuff about chores for now. Just for now. Let's focus on what you said earlier. You said you wanted to make me happy with you."

Connor nodded hesitantly. He wasn't being told to leave like the first times and Markus wasn't walking away, so for now, maybe he was safe.

"Okay," said Markus. "Well, I'm already happy with you. Very much so. I like you for who you are. You remember that, don't you?"

"Yes," murmured Connor. Markus had told him this many times before but sometimes he forgot, like his brain just didn't find those words anymore, like they'd never existed.

"So, I'll like you very much no matter what. I'd still like you just as much even if one day you stopped doing chores for me," patiently stated Markus. "And I definitely don't need you to... make me feel good, the way you were about to just now. Okay?"

"Okay," meekly said Connor.

Markus continued gazing at him for a while, his features softening with obvious worry. Eventually he asked: "Can I touch your face, Connor? I won't touch your mouth. And if you're okay with it I'd also like to hug you."

Connor nodded without hesitation. He wouldn't have refused Markus anything at all at this moment. Markus somehow seemed to become even sadder but he didn't say anything. He carefully reached up to wipe Connor's tears away with his thumb, which was when Connor realized that he was still crying. Then Markus let his fingers slide along the side of Connor's head and gently ruffled through his curls. Connor closed his eyes and sagged into the gentle touch. Something in his chest caved, leaving behind a yawning gap of longing. He wanted more of this. He always wanted more of this.

"Do you still feel like you have to do something sexual with me?" Markus asked.

Connor opened his eyes and answered in an earnest murmur: "No. Not anymore."

Markus nodded and then retrieved his hand to open both arms in a wide, familiar gesture. "Come here."

Connor immediately surged forward to huddle up against the other man's broad chest and sighed in relief when he felt Markus embrace him, like he was letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in. He felt Markus' hand rub his back in firm strokes, never going too low, warm and comforting. Connor knew he should've kept thinking on how he'd been about to force himself on the older man even though he'd thought that it was what Markus wanted, that he should've tried to untangle all the knots in his head, but his mind was too huge of a mess. He felt so tired all of a sudden, and he was still scared, and he was still crying, and he was still shivering. Connor didn't know why he couldn't understand something that seemed so simple to understand for Markus, but right now, he didn't want to care.

"It's okay," Markus was telling him. "We're fine, Connor. Today was just a bit too much for you. You'll feel better after resting."

Connor wordlessly nodded against the other man's shirt. 

They stayed like that for a moment longer, tangled up as they sat against the wall of the entryway, and when Connor's tears finally dried he found that he really didn't want to move. Markus tried to pull away but Connor impulsively gripped at his clothes to prevent him from leaving, even though Markus obviously hadn't been about to drop him on the ground and go. Markus didn't say anything. He just slipped his arms around Connor's back and lifted the both of them off the ground. When Connor automatically wrapped his legs around Markus' waist like an overgrown koala, Markus didn't say anything about that either. He hefted him up to get a better hold and then they started making their way towards the bedroom. 

Connor's eyes felt all puffy and they stung so he kept them closed. He didn't have his glasses anymore, they'd fogged up and at one point had disappeared. He didn't panic because he knew it was Markus who'd taken them. Markus' chest was firm and warm against Connor's and he felt safer now, even though he'd already spent the whole day in Markus' company. This was the way Markus sometimes comforted him after a nightmare when Connor woke up crying, confused and scared. Connor felt the same way he did after a very bad nightmare, after all, so he wasn't surprised that being in Markus' arms helped so much.

They walked into the bedroom and Markus lowered Connor on the bed to wrap him in his soft plush blanket. Then Markus sat down on the bed next to him. Connor wriggled closer so he could lay his head on the older man's thigh and Markus started petting his short curls without a single word needing to be exchanged between them. It was nice and warm and safe here. Connor started feeling fuzzy even as his thoughts continued racing around in his head like dragonflies. At some point he thought that even though he'd been ready and willing to do it, he actually hadn't wanted to touch Markus the way he'd touched other men before. If Markus hadn't stopped him... If Markus hadn't stopped him, Connor would have done it anyway, but he didn't think he would've been able to recover from it as easily as he used to with all those other people.

Connor opened his mouth to mumble: "Thank you for..." He trailed off, drowsy, managed to get the faltering train of his thoughts back on the rails. "For stopping me."

Markus' hand stilled for a second, and then resumed stroking his head. "Yeah. Go ahead and sleep, Connor. I'll still be there when you wake up."

"Mh." Connor sluggishly nodded once, the shell of his ear rubbing against the warm fabric of Markus' pants. "Okay."

The feeling of his friend softly running fingers through his hair lulled him to sleep in a single, peaceful, drifting instant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- 03/01/2021 -
> 
> Hey pumpkin!  
> Here we are. This was really nice to write and reread, love myself some good past trauma and recovery. I hope you enjoyed it too!  
> I'm going to write at least one other work for this AU because I want to write the scene that's referenced here, about the time Connor tried something sexual with Markus during their early days.
> 
> Thanks for reading, please share your thoughts below <3


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